


So much for together

by PenguinofProse



Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [9]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, Post 7.16, Post Series, angst with an optimistic ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Bellamy is on the beach in 7.16. Angst with an optimistic ending.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927285
Comments: 30
Kudos: 86





	So much for together

**Author's Note:**

> This was once a prompt for a Christmas oneshot but it didn't turn out at all Christmassy. What can you do? Here's some angst with an optimistic ending, set post-series, with Bellamy living. Happy reading!
> 
> Content note: distressing themes consistent with canon. Depictions of depression and PTSD.

Clarke cannot believe it, when she runs down the beach into the arms of her friends.

She was genuinely expecting to live out her days alone. She thought that maybe that was a fitting end after everything she has been and done – the Commander of Death deserves to be lonely in old age, she's pretty sure. She's been losing people left, right and centre for as long as she can remember, and mostly it's her fault - or at least, it feels like her fault.

The people she loves most of all are not here, of course. Madi is not here, because it's right that she should take transcendence rather than condemn herself to live on alone for a generation after Clarke and the others die. Clarke would rather transcendence wasn't in the picture at all and the human race could learn to be happy in this life, but that's just now how it is. Lexa is not here, because she died centuries ago, however much that judgemental alien was wearing her face.

And Bellamy is not here, because Clarke shot him. She shot him in the chest and watched him bleed out over the floor.

All the same, she's pleasantly surprised that some people are here rather than no people. She's a little confused, too, because most of these people have been against her rather than with her, as often as not. Raven was furious with her, only days ago. Echo only warmed to her once Bellamy went missing-presumed-dead. And she's never exchanged more than three words with Hope, she's pretty sure.

But she doesn't complain. She can't afford to complain. These people chose to come back to her, and she must do nothing to make them regret that decision.

She hugs everyone, in turn and in groups and then as individuals again. She thanks them for coming back, asks after the food she can smell cooking, and looks around her in fascination.

And then Octavia says something that takes the wind right out of her sails.

"Bellamy should be back any moment. He just went to collect firewood."

Clarke gapes stupidly. She doesn't understand. _Bellamy_? The same Bellamy? He can't be here. The dead don't transcend.

"He's here?" She gasps, somewhere between panicked and stunned and utterly delighted.

"He's right there." Octavia points.

Sure enough, there's Bellamy. _Her_ Bellamy. No – she's probably not supposed to think of him like that any more. Not since she killed him. But that's definitely him, striding over the beach, a bundle of firewood under one arm.

She runs towards him. She can't help it. She starts bolting over the sand on instinct, desperate to get her arms around him and feel his solid, living warmth. If he's here – if he's _chosen_ to come back – that must mean everything will be OK now. It must mean he's snapped out of that crazy Disciple phase and maybe even that he's half way to forgiving her.

But he's not running towards her. He doesn't look happy to see her in the slightest, in fact. He's still holding that bundle of firewood, hugging it across his chest like an unwieldy shield.

That hurts. It hurts so damn much that he feels the need to shield his chest from her, now. But she suspects it must hurt him even more than it hurts her.

"You came back!" She cries, somewhere between a shout of excitement and a cry for help.

"As you see." He mutters, still standing stiffly with his firewood armour.

"You – you passed up the chance at transcendence? To come and live here with us?"

He nods. Then he shakes his head. Then he nods again, frowning deeply.

"It felt like the right thing to do." He says in the end.

Then he hoists his firewood bundle a little higher and walks right past her.

…...

She doesn't know what to do about Bellamy.

Days pass, and nothing changes. He speaks to her, if she speaks directly to him. But he keeps it brief and factual and utterly impersonal.

They haven't even spoken about the shooting. Clarke supposes that's her fault – she could start the conversation. But in her defence it's incredibly difficult to walk up to someone you still half love and say _hey, sorry for killing you_ when they're wandering around alive and giving you the cold shoulder.

She just needs to do it. She knows she does. She just needs to gather the shreds of her confidence and composure and say it to him.

Tomorrow. She'll try tomorrow. She's too exhausted to manage it today.

…...

She steels her courage and marches up to him straight after breakfast.

"I'm sorry." She says simply. "I'm so sorry for shooting you."

He snorts without humour. "Took you long enough."

"I'm sorry for that too."

He looks at her then. He actually peers up and meets her eyes, and she thinks he looks even colder than he did back in Bardo.

"Thanks, Clarke." He says, tone sharp with sarcasm. "Great job. Shoot me, watch me choose mortality on Earth for you, and it still takes you a whole damn week to apologise."

"You chose this for _me_?"

"I didn't choose it for Gaia, did I?" He asks bitterly. "I sure as hell didn't choose it for Echo who won't even look at me. And my sister doesn't need me any more."

"I need you." She assures him right away. That's the truth, isn't it? That's why it hurt so much when he betrayed her on Bardo.

"You didn't seem to need me when you put a bullet in my chest." He bounces back at her.

"I _did_. That was the problem. That was why – why I was hurt so badly that you were going to turn Madi in. And I was panicking and I didn't know what to do and I – I -" She breaks off, tearful, badly in need of a hug.

She doesn't get a hug. "You shot me." He concludes – that's what she gets instead.

She nods. What else can she do? It's the truth – she did shoot him.

"I'm pathetic, aren't I? Like what I said to you about my sister that one time – I just keep coming back for more. Somehow it's worse when it's you. Can't even kid myself it's for my mother's sake. You shot me, yet here I am."

"How are you here? I thought the dead can't transcend."

"I wasn't dead. Life support. And then I reached the decision – transcendence or mortality and I just – I couldn't do it, Clarke. All that fuss about the light and the sketchbook and yet I just couldn't take that step without you."

"Together." She breathes, barely a whisper.

He snorts. "Together. So much for that."

"Maybe we can learn how to work together again." She suggests softly.

He shakes his head, simply walks straight off to attend to his chores. And that's the moment she truly understands. She gets it now – he didn't choose to come back of his own free will, not really.

He was forced to come back because life has screwed with his head and heart too badly to let him make any other choice.

…...

She tries harder, after that. Now she knows how messed up Bellamy is feeling, now she has had him call her out on how messed up it is that she took so long to apologise.

She starts by speaking to Jackson about the state of her emotions. He has much more experience of the physical side of medicine than the mental, but he's a kind and patient guy with a good instinct for listening, and she finds it helps a lot.

Next up, she dares to ask Jackson to talk to Bellamy. She's pretty sure she has no right to do that, but she thinks that someone needs to take care of him, and it looks like the role will fall to her.

She likes that. One-sided protectiveness is maybe a small step in the direction of _together_ , she figures.

…...

Bellamy figures it out, of course. He knows her too well, even after everything that's gone wrong between them.

"I guess I have you to thank for the way Jackson happened to invite me for a therapeutic chat?" He says, one morning, taking a seat rather abruptly at her side.

Clarke gulps, concentrates on the rabbit she is skinning. Bellamy hasn't chosen to sit down next to her since soon after they first landed on Sanctum, she's pretty sure.

"It might have had something to do with me. I'm just trying to look out for you." She says carefully.

"Because shooting someone in the chest is a great way of showing you care."

She freezes, hands stilling on the rabbit pelt. He's still furious. Of course he's still furious. Thanks to her he'll never transcend, which was so important to him. And really, she blames herself, too, for the fact that he will never live the normal life she thinks would have suited him even better. She's not sorry to have missed out on transcendence – she thinks it sounds too much like the City of Light. But she is sorry that Bellamy will not get to live safely in Shallow Valley and raise children and see out his days in peace. He could have done that, if she hadn't screwed up so badly when he first came back from space.

He'd be a really good father.

No. She can't think about that. She mustn't -

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I didn't come over here to snap at you again." He mutters quietly.

"No. It's OK. I'm the one who should be sorry – heaven knows you have reason to be angry with me."

"I came over here to say thanks for sending Jackson my way. As you've just seen I'm still dealing with a lot of anger. I still haven't forgiven myself for choosing to come back."

"I get that. I'm surprised you came back, but so happy you did."

"Really?" He asks, sounding suddenly interested.

"Yeah. Of course. If you'd transcended I would never have even known you weren't dead. And – I know it's selfish, but even like this I'm happy I get to see you still. I know I haven't always been great at showing it, but you really are important to me." It's supposed to sound like a self-deprecating joke, but it comes out sounding only incredibly sad.

"You're right. You're terrible at showing it, sometimes." Bellamy agrees heavily. "But once in a while you send a therapist my way when I really need one, and that's better than nothing."

She snorts. She's missed his ill-timed gallows humour. "Any time." She says softly. "I'll keep trying."

"What is this now – our seventh chance?" He asks, surprisingly light. "I know we're great at forgiveness and all but I wish we didn't have to practise it so often."

She brightens, turns to look at him. Is he saying what she thinks he's saying? No. He can't be opening that door so easily, so soon.

Sure enough, the moment sours again.

"I have to go, Clarke. I've – I've enjoyed talking to you too much. I'm going to hate myself for this later."

She nods. She can understand that. It's like what he said about his sister the other day – he gets frustrated with himself when he feels like he's gone crawling straight back to someone who hurt him.

"I get that." She assures him softly. "But if you want to talk another time I'll be here, skinning rabbits and trying to show you I'm not a monster."

"I know you're not a monster. But the universe seems determined to make you look like one." He says sadly.

With that, he stands up and strides away.

…...

He doesn't come back the next day, or the one after. Clarke's OK with that. She accepts it. She shot him, for goodness' sake, and it's all very well to point out that her head was a mess and she was panicking and not in a fit place to make life and death decisions, but she still _shot_ him. It was still her finger that pulled the trigger.

But he does come back three mornings later, and she thinks that might be the best thing that's ever happened to her. She's skinning a boar this time, up to her elbows in sticky blood.

"At least it's not my blood this time." Bellamy jokes as he takes a seat.

She freezes, horrified, tears springing to her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says at once, apparently reading her reaction. "God, I'm sorry. Over the line. Too far. I just – you know I joke about things when I don't know how else to deal with them."

"Don't apologise. I think the least I can do is put up with you saying what you want." She argues. "I just – yeah. I don't think I'm ever going to be ready to joke about that."

He nods heavily. She looks back down to her boar carcass, continues her work in a slightly stiff silence.

"Is it OK me being here like this?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah. It's great. I still like spending time with you." She admits. "I'd spend more time with you but I don't feel like chasing you around the camp would help you with processing your anger."

He snorts. "Might make me feel appreciated, though."

She frowns. Is that another one of his jokes that masks a serious truth? Is he saying that he wants her to chase his forgiveness a bit more decisively?

"Would it be OK if I did seek you out sometimes?" She asks cautiously.

"What do you think, Clarke?" He snaps, and he sounds angry again. "You're Clarke fucking Griffin. You led the human race through the Praimfaya crisis, brought down a family of gods like it was _nothing_. And now you're just sitting here skinning boar? I'm not important enough for you to fight for? You don't care about me enough to - to go show the world you mean business?"

"I was trying to give you _space_." She chokes out past her brewing tears. "I though that was the right thing to do."

"When have I ever wanted space from _you_ , Clarke? You left me at the gates of camp Jaha and I walked through the middle of a battlefield to get closer to you. After Shallow Valley I was clinging to your side before we'd even cleared the clouds. Even when I got back from Etherea I was following _you_ around as if you were my damn Shepherd. Why would this be any different now?"

"Because I shot you."

"You've hurt me before. History suggests you'll hurt me again." He says with a shrug.

"Bellamy -"

"I just don't see why I couldn't have fallen in love with someone who was less hard work." He bites out, angry.

With that, he is gone, marching away across the camp.

She finishes skinning the boar carefully, does a very thorough job of cleaning the hide. And while she's at it, she thinks about everything Bellamy's just said. She can kind of see what he means – she's usually a rather _active_ woman, set on going after what she wants or needs. She didn't mean for Bellamy to take her more cautious approach as an insult, as meaning she doesn't want or need _him_. She honestly thought she was giving him space.

She sighs. It's worth trying a different tactic, perhaps. What's the worst that can happen? They're already tried attempted murder.

She heads for their little storeroom, picks up an apple as a peace gesture. She seems to remember Bellamy used to like apples, back at the dropship camp. And then she gathers her courage and sets out into the trees in the direction she saw him leave.

He's not hard to find. He's sitting on a rock not far inside the treeline, head in his hands, weeping loudly. Slowly, cautiously, she kneels at his side.

And then for the first time since the shooting, she dares to touch him. She reaches out to place a gentle hand on his knee.

"I'm lucky. I fell in love with someone _awesome_." She tells him firmly. "He's kind and protective and he just wants the best for the people he cares about, all the time. Yeah, sure, he makes mistakes – which of us doesn't? And sometimes we've ended up disagreeing, or found ourselves on opposite sides. But every time we find our way back together. And I really believe we can do that this time, too." She swallows, squeezes his knee a little more firmly. "I'm ready to fight for him."

"And again, you've got a funny way of showing you care." He jokes, voice muffled from tears and from the way his head still rests in his hands.

But she can tell that he's pleased with her words. He leans towards her a bit, reaches down to cover her hand with one of his own.

Screw it. She's doing what Clarke Griffin – the old Clarke Griffin from before Bardo – would do. She reaches out, pulls him into a clumsy but heartfelt hug. And miracle of miracles he hugs her straight back, presses his face right into her neck as he always used to do.

It feels so good she starts crying, too.

So that's it. They sit there and cry together. The apple remains uneaten, and a great number of words remain unsaid. Clarke knows that sooner or later they have a lot to discuss – the nature of his faith and of their love and how they're going to fix what seems so conclusively broken.

But it's a start. A seventh chance, if Bellamy has counted right. A new beginning she doesn't deserve and intends to treasure.

It's one last opportunity to make this work, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
